Promise Me
by rosesinjanuary
Summary: Promise me we'll always be friends.


Just a little "Rule Fifty One" moment, sometime after the shootout, but before the end. Mostly friendship, with a smidge of something more... ;-)

* * *

"Hey Abs," McGee called as he walked into the lab. He nodded at the security guard. "Gibbs says you can take a break," he told him. "I'll find you when you're needed back here."

As she walked back in to the main lab from her desk, Abby caught sight of the tiny cuts on his forehead. "McGee!" she cried out, horrified. "What _happened?" _she demanded, taking his chin in her hand and tilting his head towards the light.

He gave her a puzzled stare. "Huh? Oh, those. I just got hit by some glass in the shootout, Abby. It's nothing."

"And did you have this 'nothing' examined by medical personnel?" Abby looked at him suspiciously.

McGee sighed. "They were a little busy dealing with the people who actually got shot, Abby. Williams is in the hospital, and probably will be for a while."

That distracted her for a second. "He's with Perry's team, right? He's nice. Is he going to be all right?"

"He's stable. They think he'll be fine, but it will take a while."

"Good. Well, good that he'll be fine, not that it will take a while." Brief distraction over, Abby frowned as she studied his forehead. "They're small, but they should still be cleaned out. C'mon."

"Abby –" he started to protest, and then realized that it wouldn't do any good. He let her drag him into the back of the lab and push him onto one of her tall stools while she dug out her first aid kit and a pair of magnifying glasses.

"Hold still," she told him sternly, and began her examination. "Did you have to shoot anybody?" she asked after a minute. "I know you hate it when you have to shoot people."

He tried not to move too much. "Yeah. It's a little easier when they're trying to kill you."

"Still sucks though." Abby squeezed his shoulder. "Sorry."

McGee gave her a half-smile. "Thanks."

After a microscopic wound-by-wound inspection, Abby declared them to be debris-free. "I'm going to disinfect them now. This will sting – you can squeeze my hand if you need to."

McGee rolled his eyes. "Abby, I think I can handle a little –" His words cut off in a hiss of pain and his hand clamped tight around hers.

Abby smiled. "Nice to know there's still a little bit of the wimp I used to know in there," she teased, dabbing disinfectant carefully into the cuts.

"What do you mean?" he asked with a frown.

"Stop frowning," she ordered, poking at his arm. "I can't get at the cuts when your forehead's all wrinkled." She waited with an expectant expression until he forced his face smooth. "I just mean…Everything's…weird, right now. Gibbs invoked Rule 40, and Tony's all twitchy and Ducky's preoccupied and I have an armed guard living in my lab instead of you, because you're up in MTAC all the time, and sometimes I just wish everything would stop _changing._ And you…" Her smile was a little sad. "You're so _different_ sometimes." She finished with the last cut. "There. All better." She started to step back, but he didn't let go of her hand.

"What do you mean, different? Different bad? Different good?" His voice wavered between curious and worried.

"Just…" Abby shrugged. "…_different."_ He was just as cute as ever when he was worried, she realized. "I think you might be taller…or maybe you just stand up straighter," she said, smiling, and then poked him in the stomach. "You're thinner." She thought a minute. "You're not as nervous. You spend less time down here and more time out in the field, or running between MTAC and your computer. You're older." She brushed her thumb over the corner of his eye. "Think you're getting some lines here."

"Everyone gets older, Abby," he told her sharply, and then his voice turned teasing. "Even you." He cut off her glare with a smile. "Not that it shows, of course." His expression went serious again. "But really, Abs…everything changes. Nothing stays the same forever."

Abby let out a frustrated sigh. "_I _do," she said stubbornly.

McGee laughed. "You're kidding."

Her eyebrows shot up. "Fine, name four things about me that have changed since we've known each other."

"Your hair's longer," he told her, tugging at one of her pigtails. "You switch to caffeine-free Caf-Pow after eight. You don't wear black lipstick any more. You don't go to parties as much on the weekends. You –"

She laid a finger on his lips to silence him. "Okay, you made your point," she admitted grudgingly. "Maybe sometimes I just miss the guy who couldn't string a sentence together without stuttering."

The confused look was coming back. "You…liked him better?" he asked, and his voice got that _I am desperately trying to figure this out_ tone.

"No." Their hands were still linked, and she squeezed his quickly. "He was cute. But so are you, and you're happier now, I think. You're better at your job. And anyway, you're still…you. Still my McGee." Abby leaned in and planted a kiss on his cheek. "Sometimes I just miss the way things used to be," she sighed, grabbing a tissue and wiping the lipstick off his face. "But you're right, everything changes."

She started to turn away, and then whirled back quickly, pigtails swinging. "But _we_ won't change, right McGee?" she asked anxiously. "I mean, we'll always be friends, right? Promise me," she said, her face close to his. "Promise me we'll always be the way we are."

He studied her, seeing the desperate need for reassurance in her eyes. "Of course we'll always be friends, Abs. I promise." Her anxious expression turned to a bright smile as he slid off his chair. "Want me to spring the guard for the evening? I can do paperwork down here for a while, and we can order Chinese."

"Perfect." Abby headed for the collection of takeout menus in her desk. "Hey McGee, do you think we can arrange it so that we end up in the same nursing home? So we can talk about computers when we're old and grey and senile and everyone thinks we're crazy."

McGee's heart clenched slightly, and he fought it down the way he always did when she said things like that. Then he thought about sitting in a big chair in a nursing home with Abby next to him, wrinkled and grey – but not senile; he couldn't imagine Abby senile – arguing over the latest technology and reminiscing about their days in the lab, and he smiled. "I'll make sure of it," he promised.

Abby glimpsed a hint of sadness cross his face, and fought the desire to kiss it better the way she always did when he looked sad. Instead, she looked forward to their evening in the lab.

And the prospect of being old and grey and wrinkled with him someday.

FIN


End file.
